


spill gardens at my feet

by azureforest



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, mentions of others - Freeform, warning for emetophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>flowers grow in his throat, fight to get out, and each petal reminds him of everything he's never been able to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spill gardens at my feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its spring, spring in the middle of winter, and even though springs stand for beginnings, for him, it's the beginning of the end.

Flower language spills from his lips as he heaves, daffodils, pink camellias, acacias, red carnations, each cough a silent scream for it to stop, each petal a tiny confession _of i love you i love you i love you_. His throat burns, it’s hell on earth, and he would rather face Ashera’s judgment again- He would rather be frozen in stone, pushed over, shattered into a billion pieces rather than slowly withering away, curling up like the browning and yellowing autumn leaves. It’s slow, constricting, _agonizing_ , the end of the warm and the coming of the cold.

But it’s still spring where he is, despite the snow pattering against the windows. It’s still spring, the flowers are in full bloom, a delicate carpet upon the creaking wooden planks, setting root into his floor over the past months so it stays spring evermore. His bare feet search for a hold as he staggers along, hand over his mouth in a feeble attempt to stop the flow, because he’s still as unchangeable as the spring in his own four walls, he still refuses to let it all out even through the physical manifestation of his thoughts, the shapes of words left unsaid- Another yellow petal falls from his mouth, tinged with a red that does not belong.

 _sunshine in your smile_.

Shaking fingers run over its surface gingerly, gently, as if he were handling something living, breathing, loved. It’s soft, and Leonardo cringes, letting it fall to the floor to join the others, any tenderness towards it from earlier gone as he treads upon it, the red smearing onto his toes- He doesn’t care.

He knows he’s dying, wilting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it, and the hopelessness of the situation makes him laugh- Until he coughs again, more flowers falling to the ground, and he doesn’t bother picking them up. The inside of his mouth would be dry if it weren’t for the blood. He wipes it away roughly with the back of his hand, slumps into a chair, before reaching for a pile of books- Flower language, plays, fairytales he hadn’t touched since he was ten. Things he hadn’t entertained for the longest time.

Better than nothing, he supposes, anything to take his mind off the regret nailed into his chest and the way his stomach churns every time he re-realizes what each flower means- In hindsight, he knocks the flower meanings off of the table, because it sickens him, the disgustingly beautiful garden around him and the words spinning in his head like a whirl of leaves in a brisk wind.

_i love you. i love you so much. ive loved you all along. its always been you._

But even if he says all this out loud, what use will it be if no one can hear them? Why would he pour out his heart to empty space, deaf ears, an unfilled outline where the recipient should be?

Was this why he’s pouring his heart out into the blood dotting his home and the dying bouquets on his sheets?

He knocks the plays off the table too, joining the volumes already on the floor, simply out of spite towards those who found love somehow, towards himself, towards the person who left so he wouldn’t even have a chance anymore, though he couldn’t be entirely mad at the last one- Another petal follows, bright yellow like so many of the others, and he doesn’t even bother to check, he knows what it means, he’s being irrationally upset, illnesses tend to do this to their hosts, _take a deep breath, calm down-_

He already fails the first step by choking on his own breath and doubling over again, letting more flowers fall as he gags and retches, the earthy flavor far from welcome, his nose filled by the scent of roses.

_if i told you, would you love me back?_

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i thought this was a good idea, but it wasnt and im dead inside
> 
> any form of feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
